Out Of Reach?
by LongSurnamer
Summary: Locked up and left to rot in Cidhna Mine, Dragonborn Raven Skyrise has a few choice questions for Madanach, the King in Rags. The answers that she gets may lead to Skyrim's future going down a very different and unexpected path.
1. Chapter 1: A Conspiracy

**A/N **

**Some of you may have noticed that I released this fic under the same name, but with a different chapter one. I decided that version was rushed to get out and I didn't think it was good enough to keep up, so I deleted it and re-wrote the first chapter. I hope you enjoy it. **

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_Meet me at the Shrine of Talos_

Raven couldn't refuse someone in need. It was a trait that she valued dearly. From giving septims to beggars, to killing wild animals that had invaded peoples' homes, she could never find the heart to turn down a genuine cry for help. Of course, the riches that inevitably came with it helped, but money wasn't the point. The point was being kind, in hopes that the person in question may then seek to emulate that kindness towards others. Amongst the bitter people of Skyrim, locked in civil war, kindness could go a long way.

It was a trait that she acknowledged as both her greatest quality, but also her biggest weakness. She had been exploited before because of it. Not just from her time in Skyrim, but all throughout her life. After going through an unforgiving upbringing herself, she had decided that nobody should have to feel the same dark thoughts she had. Back when she was just a broke orphaned teenager beggar herself on the streets of the Imperial City where the degenerate drunks would try to take advantage of her, and where she was treated as dirt by so many, Raven swore that she would do everything in her, albeit little, power to get a fresh start and help others.

She grew up in Cyrodiil, only one year after the signing of the White Gold Concordat. Her parents were alchemists, and had a small business selling cures to the survivors of the conflict. It was enough to pay for their house and get food, but there was never much spare to save up. So when her parents died, her father of a severe case of Ataxia (even their best potions of cure disease only slowed down the illness that ravaged him), and her mother who took her own life unable to cope without her significant other, after having to sell off all her parents property to pay off vicious loans her father took out to pay for ingredients, Raven took to the streets to beg for whatever she could get.

She spent nine years on the streets. She was lucky she had her looks in her side, she kept her long black hair as clean as she could and her blue eyes always had a small spark of life in them, contrasted to the other high and glassy eyed beggars desperate for the skooma and alcohol. From age sixteen to twenty-five she begged before she finally had scrounged enough to move away. She left the Imperial City, and didn't look back. Instead, she made her way towards Skyrim. She saw the war as an opportunity to escape from poverty. To take what her parents had taught her about alchemy and use that to create healing potions to sell to the soldiers.

But instead she was caught illegally crossing the border. She had been scoping out her route for a few days, it was her bad luck that some rebels and imperials clashed right in her path into Skyrim. She had tried to run from the fight, but an imperial soldier, believing her to be a disguised rebel trying to escape, tackled her and she passed out.

And from there her life spiralled out of control. Just as she was about to be executed at Helgen, a dragon as black as the night sky with evil red eyes destroyed the entire town, allowing her to escape in the process with a rebel named Ralof. She had no idea how to fight, so he quickly taught her the basics of wielding a sword as they battled through imperial soldiers to escape.

She learned to fight with the Companions. Vilkas and Athis taught her all she knew about using a sword, and she couldn't have asked for better teachers. Almost all the gold she earned from her jobs went towards convincing them to take the time to teach her that little bit more. Combining her growing combat ability with the reveal that she was the Dragonborn, Raven fully realised her responsibility. She was the lowly beggar no more, she had the potential to be the most powerful figure in all of Skyrim. Maybe even all of Tamriel. She had to uphold a strict code of ethics so the common people would not grow to fear their supposed hero.

It took her three years in total, but she finally killed Alduin aged twenty-eight. At this point she was at the height of her power: she knew almost every shout, had a growing magical ability, and was an incredible swordswoman. But she never forgot her humble roots and her code of ethics. She had narrowed it down to never murder, always offer to help those in need, never steal from the poor, always act with honour. Those simple four aspects defined her, and she always stuck to them no matter how difficult.

She was on a job for the Companions when she witnessed the attack in the marketplace. When she saw the native Reachman miner pull the dagger out the words to the slow time shout were rising in her throat, but it was too late. "For the Forsworn!" The man yelled as he slit the woman's throat. Acting quickly to prevent anyone else getting hurt, Raven rushed forward, drawing her deadly sharp skyforge steel sword, and driving it through the miner's back before his wild slashes of his dagger could wound anyone else. The city guard approached her, and Raven prepared to refuse any reward they offered her for her quick and decisive action, but was instead met with bereavement.

"Thank you for your help, outsider." The Guard said, flatly and unconvincingly, "we'll take it from here. Move along." A slight bit of indignance rose in Raven, but she squashed it down.

"That man was shouting about the Forsworn," she said, "what does that mean?" Raven had encountered the Forsworn before, the pelt-wearing, axe-wielding Reachmen and women who fought the Nords desperately for control over the western hold, but had shied away from combat with them where possible.

"Nothing," The Guard replied, "there are no Forsworn in the city. He was just some raving madman, pay it no mind, outsider," The Guard said, obviously trying to keep her out of it.

"Not my business anyway." Raven said, trying not to grit her teeth in annoyance. Someone was dead the the Guard was treating it like nothing! She began to walk away from the scene of the crime to get to her job, a wolf inside the house of a silver-worker, but was abruptly stopped by a young native man jogging up to her.

"Excuse me!" He said, waving a scam of paper in his hand, "Excuse me but I think you dropped this. Some kind of note, looks important." He handed it over to her. Raven looked at it, confused. She didn't have any notes on her at the time. What was this about?

"Sorry, I don't understand," Raven told him, furrowing her eyebrows, "is this your note?"

"Ah nope." The man replied, "I'm pretty sure you dropped it when that man killed that poor woman. Nice work with the quick action, by the way." The man nodded, "I hope the divines find you more peace in the future." He gave her a brief smile, before walking away to the forge. Raven looked at the man, confused. Then it dawned on her. She tucked the note into a pocket in her self-made scaled armour before entering the dingy workers' quarters of Markarth. She drew her sword and entered the room of the worker who had called for the Companions help, and exited a minute later with the wolf's pelt slung over her shoulder.

"Thank you so much! I thought that beast would kill me!" The worker told her as she left.

"Don't mention it." She replied, giving the worker a friendly nod. Outside the worker's quarters she leant against the dwemer-built stone wall and pulled out the note given to her.

_Meet me at the Shrine of Talos_

She didn't have to make a decision on whether or not to do so. It made sense now. The man who gave her the note must've wanted clarity on the killing. The city guard proved to be useless on it, even hostile, but an armed outsider may be able to intervene where a citizen wouldn't. Still, she was concerned at being accused of Talos worship in the Imperial-controlled City so she waited until late evening when the guards change shifts to get into the Talos Shrine without being spotted.

Inside the man leant against a column to the left of the decrepit shrine. It was clear that nobody had tried to visit in a long time, Raven taking it as justification for her own caution about entering. The man stood up when he saw her coming, briefly brushing himself down. "I'm so sorry to drag you into Markarth's problems." He started, "but I need your help. You're an outsider, tough-looking. You'll do for what I need."

"And what is it that you need?" Raven raised an eyebrow, seeking to confirm her theory of what he wanted.

"A woman was murdered in the open market this morning. Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent, he even openly declared his support for them. But the city guard do nothing, except clean up the mess and call him a madman. I've watched this exact scenario play out countless times. Nobody dares speak up about it out of fear of arrest and being thrown in Cidhna Mine. I reckon someone like you could find out what's really going on behind all these murders. And of course, there'll be gold in it for you."

"No need for gold." Raven sighed, "I have more septims than I know what to do with. I'll help anyway," she declared, "but first, could you humour me this question. If the rest of the civilians try not to care about the attacks, why do you care so much?"

The man sighed, rubbing his forehead. "My name's Eltrys. My father owned one of the mines, a rare thing for a native. One day he was killed by a Forsworn, which was strange. Forsworn never especially attack natives, only Nords. The guards, of course, said it was just a madman. I've tried to find out why myself, but now I'm married and have a child on the way. I feel like my father's spirit is haunting me, asking me 'why?' Over me over. I won't have any closure until I know."

"I'll do my best to bring you some." Raven gave him a reassuring smile, "anything you can tell me to help me start?" She asked.

"The attacker's name was Weylin." Eltrys replied, "lived down in the Warrens, near where I do. The woman he killed was Margret. Everything about her screamed 'outsider', so she was probably staying in the Silver-Blood Inn. Remember, I'll pay for any information you bring me."

"It's fine, you really don't have to." Raven said over her shoulder and she began to walk up the stairs out of the Shrine. The temperature had quickly cooled outside. She had arrived in Markarth in the afternoon, but now it was early evening and a cold breeze was coming from the mountains. As the sky dimmed, she decided to head to the Inn, both for mead and answers. If she could butter up the innkeeper with tips, she might get some answers about Margret from him.

She entered the inn, a warm and cozy contrast to the chilly outside. The bard was playing a heartwarming melody on their lute, but apart from that the attitude in the inn was active but downtrodden. The marketplace attack clearly had affected everyone's spirits. Raven walked up to the bar and sat on the counter.

"Hey old man," she greeted the barkeep, "bottle of Honningbrew?" She pushed five septims across the counter towards him.

"Sure thing," he nodded, bringing up a bottle from under the bar and passing it over to her. "You're the one who killed that murderer earlier, right?"

"Yeah," Raven confirmed, "I just wish I could've gotten to him a bit quicker. Then maybe that poor woman would still be alive." She took a swig of her drink.

"Aye, but I'm sure you did the best you could. Poor Margret, she rented a room here you know. The finest room we have for a whole month. It's going to be strange for her to not be around." The barkeeper sighed.

"I don't suppose it'll be possible for me to rent that room?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him, "I've got a long walk back to Whiterun tomorrow, need to rest properly."

"It's a bit disrespectful-" The barkeeper started, but Raven cut him off by passing over a purse of one hundred gold to him.

"That enough for you?" Raven asked him. She was never really one for speechcraft, finding that money was the best and most reliable tool for convincing someone anyway, with brawling taking second place.

"Done. Enjoy your stay. It's down the hallway to the left, last room on the right." The barkeep nodded, pocketing the cash.

"Cheers, old man." Raven nodded, getting up from the stool and walking to the room. Entering inside and locking the door behind her, she sat on the bed and yawned heavily. She glanced round for anything out of place, but initially saw nothing. She got up from the bed, taking another swing of her mead, and grabbed an apple from a bowl on the table in the corner of her room. Next to the bowl was a journal, which she flipped open to the latest entry.

'_Meeting at the Treasury House tomorrow, Took them long enough. These people act like they own everything._

_Thonar Silver-Blood is the younger brother, but he's obviously the one in charge. Makes all the deals, bullies local landowners into selling to him. Even employs that wispy girl at the door to deter "trouble-makers" like me._

_General Tullius is growing impatient, but I'll bring back the deed to Cidhna Mine. On my life, I won't allow a group of Stormcloak sympathizers to own the prison to the most notorious criminals of the Reach. They say no one escapes. Why? Is it really that secure?_

_Maybe I've played my hand too soon by rushing the confrontation with Thonar. There are shadows around every corner in this city, and I know I'm being watched._'

So, Margret was an imperial spy then. Looking to acquire Cidhna Mine for the Imperial cause. Raven didn't hold any particular allegiance to either side of the war. On one hand she supported the Empire as a unifying body, but felt no personal identity with it, and was not sure if staying within a weak and collapsing body was a good idea. But on the other hand, Ulfric Stormcloak's rebellion seemed to be motivated partly by racial hatred, and Raven did not like the man himself, believing him to be arrogant and opportunistic. Oh how insufferable he had been when she was trying to organise a truce to allow her to defeat Alduin. But that wasn't the most important part of the letter.

The Silver-Blood family. Raven had heard their name, after all she was staying in the Silver-Blood Inn. So they must be this city's major family. The Battle-Borns and Grey-Manes of Markarth. She'd never heard of Cidhna Mine, though. An inescapable mine full of notorious criminals of the Reach? Well they can only be Forsworn. Maybe they had something to do with Eltys' father's death. Raven made up her mind, in the morning she'd attend Margret's appointment. If this Thonar Silver-Blood was really as important as he was made out to be, he'd be the one with the answers. Having decided this, Raven went back and lay on the stone bed, quickly falling asleep.

She awoke in the late morning, aching from sleeping on the stone bed, and wearing her armour. She groaned, not wanting to get up but knowing that she had a job to do. Margret's journal had been revealing; Thonar Silver-Blood was where the clues directly led to. She sat up and adjusted to the cold stone-walled room, then stood up. She grabbed an apple from the bowl, and swiped Margret's journal to take with her as well. Taking a bite from the apple, she left the room and, with a nod of thanks to the barkeeper, left the inn.

Outside she was met with a freezing, rainy, and windy day, and the tip of a sharpened steel sword belonging to a town guard. Raven froze, still somewhat groggy from just having woken up, unsure of how to react.

"Hold there," The guard spoke, his voice demeaning and severe, "we've seen you snooping around, asking questions, getting involved in things that aren't your business." He stated, "this is your only warning: stay out of our business, or there's going to be trouble." He said, matter-of-factly. He sheathed his sword, and walked away, glancing over his shoulder back at her as he left.

Raven bristled. The corruption in Markarth really was how Eltrys described it. Murderers in the streets, and the guards stopping anyone who wants to stop it by intimidation. Raven knew who she had to see next. If these guards were corrupt, someone rich and powerful had to be paying them off. All clues point to Thonar Silver-Blood playing a large role in the conspiracy. Once she was sure that the guard was out of eyeshot, walked as casually as she could make out to be towards the Shrine of Talos, to inform Eltrys of everything she had found out.

Eltrys himself was completely unsurprised by what she had found out. "The Silver-Bloods are the single most powerful family in the Reach. They own nearly every mine, it's no shock at all to see them wrapped up in all this. You'll want the Treasury House then, like the journal said." Eltrys smiled, "Thank you for telling me this. Please, I know you don't want it, but I insist you take this gold." He tried to hand her a coin purse, but she wasn't having it.

"No, Eltrys you need that money for you wife and child." She told him, "uncovering and exposing the layers of corruption in this City are more than enough reward for me." She pushed his hand away. "I'll see you later, I've got an appointment to attend," she chuckled, leaving Eltrys in the Shrine. She hurried to the Treasury House, trying to spend as little time in the pouring rain as possible. She barged in, black hair plastered to her face and head, and scaled armour dripping wet.

"I need to see Thonar," she announced to the woman at the desk, "I have an appointment." Trying not to sound aggressive and like any other patron of what she assumed would attend to this establishment. Higher class and more money than they would know what to do with. Snobs, like the ones who would brush by her when she begged for scraps in Cyrodiil.

"No, you don't." The woman replied, "besides, Thonar is a busy man. He doesn't have time to attend to every person who just barges in here."

Raven sighed, retrieving another purse of money. Next to Riften, this must be the most corrupt place she had ever visited. Why couldn't people just help for the sake of wing kind, instead of constantly extorting as much money as possible. "This change your mind?" She asked, placing the bulging purse onto the counter.

"It's amazing how much money can get you around here," the woman grinned, snatching the purse, "please, go right in."

"Thank you for your consideration," Raven said sarcastically, walking round the counter to the hallway on the left, and into the room at the end.

Thonar Silver-Blood was a middle-aged man with a shaved head and a five o'clock shadow, wearing the clothes of a noble and Raven could tell just by looking at him that it had been a very long time since somebody had ever said no to him. He was sitting down reading a book, when he looked up at her. "What are you doing here? I told them no visitors," he said, audibly and visibly annoyed at her presence.

"I'm here to talk about the Forsworn," she announced, "and also, why you sent a guard to threaten me." She glared at him, trying to establish herself as the dominant one in the conversation.

"The Forsworn are crazy, thinking they rule the Reach. Well guess what? I do. I own the mines, I put coin into people's pockets. Did you expect that nobody would notice your snooping around, butting into my business? The guards know where the coin in this City comes from, and I don't like snoops. Markarth is my city, and you have no right to get involved in my business," The man fumed, "now get out!" He angrily commanded her. Raven narrowed her eyes, about to retort when she heard a scream from back down the hallway. Whipping her head around, she saw one person attacking the woman behind the counter, and an elderly woman she had passed in the front room earlier approaching the two of them with a firebolt spell in each hand.

"GET BACK!" She shoved Thonar out of the way of the assassin's magefire and, once the barrage had stopped, unleashed her thu'um upon the unsuspecting elderly lady. "FUS RO DAH!" She roared. The elderly woman went flying backwards, her spine snapping instantly as she slammed into the back wall, dying upon impact. The other attacker looked around bewildered at what had happened to her associate, as Raven seized the opportunity to charge her and thrust her skyforge steel sword right through her stomach, killing her as well. Seeing the woman behind the counter bloody and cut up by the attacker is dagger, she knelt down and handed her a healing potion, before getting up to check on Thonar.

Thonar was alive and well, and furious. "Damn Madanach!" He growled, "he killed my wife! Damn him and his Forsworn degeneracy."

"You're corrupt, you deserved this," Raven coldly retorted. She had little tolerance for the type of people like Thonar.

"Shut up, only the gods can judge me." Thonar spat at her, "you wanted to know who the Forsworn are? Fine. They're my puppets. I have their King, Madanach, locked up in Cidhna Mine. He's supposed to carry out my orders and keep the Forsworn under control."

"The Forsworn have a King?" Raven asked. She had never really looked into Forsworn culture, or even encountered many of them. She had tried to avoid confrontation with them, except for that one camp in the Karthspire which she had to fight through.

"Yes, Madanach. The 'King in Rags'. Whilst we fought the Great War, the Forsworn rose up and seized control of Markarth, and he ruled over everyone. Then Ulfric came and put them down. Except when we had reestablished control, I had Madanach brought to me just before he was set to be executed. I offered him his life in return for dealing with any annoyances. Competitors, agents, idiots. So I let him run his little rebellion from Cidhna Mine, but now he is out of control."

"I can take care of him, if you want. Ensure nobody else dies," Raven offered, not happy with the prospect of helping the corrupt snob, but still wanting to stop the death plaguing Markarth.

"What? You got what you came for, you damned hound. This is your fault, if you hadn't been snooping around this wouldn't have happened. You and Madanach are both animals, and I'll see you both rot in Cidhna Mine. Get out!" He yelled at her. Defeated, Raven complied. At least she had the answers Eltrys wanted. His father was killed by Forsworn because Thonar wanted to remove a competitor from the mining business, so ordered this 'Madanach' character to take care of it. She jogged back to the Shrine of Talos, not in a good mood.

And inside it only got worse. Eltrys' body was sprawled out on the floor of the shrine. His stomach was cut open, and blood was pouring out still. Over his dead body, three guards stood.

"We warned you," the middle guard declared, the same one from earlier that day, "we warned you but you didn't listen. Now we have to pin the murders on you. Silence witnesses, pay people off, work work work." The guard sighed.

"What have you done to Eltrys?!" Raven said in disbelief. She knew the guards were corrupt, but to this level? This was inhumane!

"Same thing we do to all the natives looking to change things around here. We have a good deal with Madanach and Thonar going on, until you and Eltrys started getting in the way. You wanted to find out who was behind the killings? You'll get plenty of time with the King in Rags in Cidhna Mine, serving your life sentence. Now, come quietly or else."

Raven analysed the threat. Three guards, steel swords and chain and cloth armour. She had the high ground and the Thu'um. They would have to charge her, she could shout them down and probably kill at least two of them before the other got up, and then quickly dispatch the other. But, she'd also have to fight through Markarth to get out of the city, and innocent people could get hurt. She had to be above them, she cause other innocents to die.

She sighed, "alright, I surrender." She declared. She looked at Eltrys' corpse again, feeling a sense of failure. He died without knowing why, and leaving a mother and child with no father all because of these guards. The injustice of Markarth truly was terrible.

"Good. Shame there is no sun out today, you'll forget what it looks like in Cidhna Mine. Nobody has ever escaped it, and nobody ever will." The guard declared. It was the same guard from earlier; the one who had threatened her. Raven allowed him to tie her arms behind her back, take her weapons and lockpicks, and the three guards led her at swordpoint out of the Shrine and through the streets of Markarth, into Cidhna Mine.

The other two guards stood at the exit to the mine, as Raven was led deeper inside by the guard she had started to hate. He led her into a cage before cutting her loose. Raven groaned, rubbing her wrists from the tight leather strips that had bound them.

"Strip." The guard ordered. Raven could hear the smirk behind it, and held back a gag. Knowing she had no choice, she had to comply. She began to unbuckle her scaled armour, and shivered as she became more and more exposed. The guard laughed as he approached, "maybe we shouldn't give you the rags." he chuckled, "send you in like that as a little 'gift' to the Forsworn. Maybe if we let them have their way with you, they will be less aggressive towards us."

Raven's eyes widened. Immediately she was back in the Imperial City. It was a cold, dark night. Angry storm clouds had rolled in almost out of nowhere, and she had no shelter from the pouring rain. She was down some back alley, under an awning, trying to stay warm. She didn't even see him approaching her with a knife drawn. She was only seventeen, still naive about how life in the streets truly could be-

"But that would be too disrespectful to Skyrim's hero." The guard decided, handing her some rags to put on. Raven hurriedly donned them, eager to suppress those awful memories. He locked her into the cage, "I'm going to find the warden," he told her, "you'll never see the sun again." He echoed his previous statement, laughing and walking away deeper into the cave.

Raven waited in the cold cramped cage for what felt like hours until an orc woman in steel armour approached her.

"Eyes front, prisoner," the woman commanded, "you're in Cidhna Mine now, and here you earn your keep. You don't get off by seeing your time by sleeping the days away. Here, your time is spent at the pickaxe and you will mine silver until your arms drop off and you pass out from exhaustion, and then you'll mine more. Understand?"

Raven nodded, "got it, ma'am." She confirmed, deciding that a policy of non-aggression was probably the best approach.

"Good, open her up." The Orc said. The gate behind Raven swung open in response. "Now get down there and start digging!" The Orc woman ordered her. Raven complied, exiting the cage and turning round to watch and the gate behind her closed with a slam, and with it went any chance at her freedom.


	2. Chapter 2: Jailbird

**A/N **

**Thanks to the people who read the last chapter! And especially to thatguy9991 for following. **

**I do intend to get a new chapter out every Monday, but there will be some leeway with when new chapters are released depending on how motivated I am. **

**As a warning, the end of the chapter does get quite dark. I have out the rating up to M because the nature of Raven's past does involve some dark stuff and it's ultimately unavoidable to the character. SO CLICK AWAY IF YOU ARE BELOW 16. **

Raven shivered in the rags she was wearing as she stumbled towards the fire in the centre of the main chamber in the mine. The one man sat by it looked up as she approached. He looked older than his voice suggested, with grey hair tied back into a ponytail and muscles smaller than her own but clearly developed from years slaving away at the pickaxe. "New blood," he greeted her as she approached, "what're you in for?" He looked at her curiously but also eyes flicking over her, sizing her up. Judging if she was a threat, or someone to be taken advantage of.

"Nothing." Raven adamantly declared "I'm completely innocent. The guards framed me for murder." She ran a hand through her black hair, rubbing her temples slightly at the stress of the situation. Nobody was going to help her. The Companions would call her dishonourable for being arrested for 'murder', and would probably kick her out.

"Same with me, the first time, at least. But all the other murders, they were all very real." He nodded, "nearly all of us were framed at one point or another. My advice? Serve your time at the pickaxe and get out as soon as possible. You really do not want to end up getting shanked over a bottle of skooma."

"Where are all the guards?" Raven looked around, slightly confused. Wasn't this meant to be an inescapable prison?

"Out there," the man gestured towards the exit of the mine. "They come in once a week to clear out the bodies, take our ore, beat down the troublemakers, and bring food. Oh, and if we don't dig up enough ore, we don't get food. So work your time, or you'll find yourself making a lot of enemies very quickly." He advised. "You have a name, new blood?"

"Raven." She replied, "where's Madanach?"

"Ah, you're the new lifer. I'm sorry, friend, truly. I'm Uraccen, just another Forsworn unjustly locked up and slaving away for the Nords until we are free again." He sighed, a sorry tone in his voice. "You should know how it is. Those guards sold you out good. And as for your question, nobody just gets to talk to Madanach, I'm afraid. If he wants to talk to you, he'll have word sent. Only way to see him is by getting past Borkul the Beast. And, trust me, nobody gets passed Borkul. Just wait, if you think Madanach knows you're here and it's to do with him, chances are he'll want to talk to you at some point."

Raven looked around. Standing next to a gate was the biggest Orc she had ever seen. Muscles on top of muscles, and a blood-stained pickaxe tied to his waist. "Borkul," she said, "The Orc?" She asked.

"The Orc." Uraccen confirmed. "Heard he once ripped a man's arm clean off, proceeded to beat him to death with it. He's old fashioned like that. Nowadays he uses a pickaxe. Could carve your face in with one swing, trust me, I've seen him do it. So if you want to keep that pretty face attached to that body of yours, I'd recommend staying away. Just start digging for ore, do your part so we all get food at the end of the week."

"You mentioned a shiv," Raven said, "any idea where I could get one? For protection?"

"Sorry, friend. I'd tell you, but I don't want to receive a shiv in the back myself." Uraccen told her sympathetically. "If you've got quick hands you might be able to pocket one off of somebody else, but it's not a wise idea to make enemies down here. See, we're all Forsworn here, like one big family, if you will. Well, all of us except Grisvar. He's a thief. Even worse, he's a Nord. Kept getting locked up after being caught, now he's a lifer like the rest of us."

"Why? Why did you join the Forsworn?" She asked, "aren't they killers?" It was a question that plagued her mind, and one of the reasons she tried to avoid interacting with them. Without knowing why they were doing what they did, slaughtering them just for some cash felt wrong, and she tried not to do it.

"Because life was better under the old ways." He replied, passion stirring in his eyes. "No Nords, and their laws binding us to their ways of life. One day, we'll rise up and paint the walls of Markarth red with their blood." He angrily said. The rhetoric was all-too familiar. Replace the word 'Nord' with 'Imperial' and it was clear to see why; it was the mirror image of the arguments she'd heard presented by countless Stormcloaks as they attempted to sway her to their cause, but her neutrality held firm. Uraccen sighed, "I doubt you'd understand how it feels to have your rightful homeland ripped out from under you by invaders who make your way of life illegal, and execute your brethren by the dozen."

"I don't, you're right." Raven agreed, "but I do still want to get to the bottom of everything. If I can't see Madanach now, I'll wait as long as necessary. I'm here for life, after all."

Uraccen didn't reply to that, just turned back and stared into the flames. "I have a daughter out there, you know. Ualie. She was so young when we lost everything, sometimes I forget her age now. That's what being in here does to you. Every prisoner that's ended up in here has had a breaking point, except for us. Being with family makes it easier. Those who don't join rarely last more than a month before cracking." He was rambling, but Raven listened to him. "But that's enough of that. Come on, I suppose I'll show you around and find you a good place to start your own digging." He stood up, stretching.

"Thanks," Raven gave him a weak smile. At least she wasn't locked up with all psychopaths. Uraccen seemed to be a nice enough person, just thrust into horrible circumstances.

"This centre chamber is where we eat, sleep, and haul all of our ore to for when the guards come. The fire stays lit until summer. To the left of us is a largely abandoned tunnel." Uraccen explained, "we dug that out maybe ten years ago, now only one of us works down there at a time, whilst the others work in the more profitable tunnel. I think it's Duach down there right now." They took route down the tunnel to the right. "two of us work here to expand this section out into a new chamber," Uraccen explained as they walked into a small opening. "This is Odvan and Grisvar," he gestured to the two men toiling away in the cave. "Carrying on down takes us to Braig's room. He prefers to work alone, he's a solitary man. Helryn works a bit beyond that, Me? I help out where needed. I'm probably the weakest here, so the worst at mining." Uraccen admitted, and they began to walk back to the main chamber. "Borkul's the only one who gets a free pass from mining, largely because nobody wants to tell him he was to work. Everyone is afraid of him. What about you? Where are you going to dig?"

Raven thought for a second. "I suppose for now I could go down the left tunnel, help out down there." She mused.

"Alright, take a pick and get to it then." Uraccen said, "remember, we only get food if we turn over enough ore. Don't be the one to ruin it for all of us."

"No problem." She nodded, before turning away to walk town the abandoned tunnel. She scanned the walls for a vein of silver to start chipping away at, but saw none. She continued walking down the cave, coming to a junction. Looking left, it was hard to miss the glittering silver amongst the dull brown and grey rocks of the mine. She lifted her pickaxe over her shoulder, and began to swing at the ore vein.

Again and again, she brought her pickaxe down onto the rock, dislodging more and more of the ore. After about six minutes of swinging she had finally broken out two large chunks of silver ore, and an amethyst that was lodged into the rock. Already her back was slightly aching from how she was standing and swinging, and she realised just how awful her life was going to become. All for crimes she didn't commit. This was definitely one of the moments where she considered her compassion to be a curse. After all, it was her desire to help Eltrys that landed her in this spot.

She kept on digging at the wall for a good hour, but despite dislodging a significant amount of dirt, came across only one other vein of silver. Two more chunks of silver ore joined her pile. Already she was losing track of time- it was midday, maybe, when she was thrown in. How much later could it be now? She at least wanted to keep track of the days, if she was going to be there forever. To that end, she lifted her pickaxe up and used the tip of it to scratch a small line into one of the rocks to the side of where she was digging. Day one of the rest of her life. She kept on digging.

And digging.

And digging.

Slowly her small pile of ore and gemstones began to increase in size. Her arms felt like they were going to drop off from the agony of the continuous mining, but she kept going. She originally thought that her common use of the blade would mean that using a pickaxe wouldn't be too difficult, but she had underestimated just how long she would be mining non-stop for. Still, she had widened out the tunnel she had been digging in and increased it in length. And at least she had some ore to show for her progress.

Movement in the corner of her eye behind her distracted her from her work. One of the inmates was creeping up behind her, she swivelled round completely and yelped, raising her arm instinctively and slapping the sneaking man. He groaned, rubbing his face.

"Damn, that hurt." He said, standing up straight. "Sorry. I couldn't help it. I heard you were new and wanted to see if you were an easy mark." The man apologised. "I'm Grisvar. The only Nord locked up here with all of you Reachmen." He sighed, "though I'm still a lifer like all of you."

Raven raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a Reachman," she replied, "name's Raven. I'm a Breton, raised in Cyrodiil." She explained, "what're you in for?" she asked.

"First time? Thieving," He said, "second time? Thieving. Third time? Thieving." He ran his hand through his hair, "it kind of kept going like that until the Jarl decided that I was more trouble that I was worth so chucked me in here with a life sentence." Grisvar explained. "You joined up with the Forsworn yet?" He looked at her curiously.

"What? Of course not," Raven was surprised at the suggestion. "Why would I?"

"Most who get thrown in here do." Grisvar sighed, "makes life a bit easier, I suppose. Then again, most people who get thrown in here are natives anyway. Doesn't take long for our fellow lifers to radicalise them, then when they get out they run off to the hills to join the rest of the Forsworn." He explained to her. Raven couldn't blame them, Markarth was wallowing in corruption second only to Riften. With natives being singled out for punishments, joining the Forsworn must be an inviting choice. No Nord laws, open worship of their gods. "This prison radicalises everyone eventually. Given time, everyone cracks. I've been in and out of here enough to know that the life the Forsworn offer isn't all what they make it out to be, but the angry natives thrown in here don't listen. They're all too happy to join up." He explained to her.

"Have you ever spoken to Madanach?" She asked him.

"Yes, a few times." Grisvar replied, "he likes to hear about what the outside world is like, he used to always summon me to talk to him when I had been let out then got myself thrown back in. I think it reminds him of what he's fighting for, or something like that," he mused. "Though he hasn't wanted to speak to anyone for a while now. He just stays in his room doing who-knows-what."

"What's he like?" She asked, curious, and desperate for any insight into who the King in Rags really was.

"Well he's fairly old, early fifties late forties, maybe. Full head of grey hair, pale skin." Grisvar described, "pretty muscular, I hear he's apt at magic as well. Though, you're not asking about physical aspects, are you? You want to know the character of the man who leads the Forsworn." He stated. "He's incredibly devoted to his cause. Patient, but also understands the lengths he will have to go to to achieve his goals. He's fair, or so I've been told. Things were alright in Markarth when he was in charge, only the racist Nord landowners were treated worse than most, thanks to him. Even then, nothing too harsh happened, unlike what happened when Ulfric retook the city."

"What did happen?"

"No need to ask me, every Forsworn in here has a sob story about it. But the gist of it is mass executions, arrests, the Jarl trampled on the natives' rights. More atrocities happened after the occupation was over than during it." Grisvar explained. "Anyway, that's enough chat for now. We should be digging. And if the others catch us talking for too long they might get suspicious. We are, after all, the only two non-Forsworn here."

"Good to meet you, Grisvar." Raven curtly nodded, heaving her pickaxe up with her aching muscles and taking another tired swing at the stubborn rock in front of her.

"You too." He replied, walking further down into the cave.

After four more hours of mining Raven felt like hell. Her throat was completely parched and dry. Her arms refused to take one more swing at the rocks in front of her, even if she wanted to. She was starving, regretting only having eaten an apple before being thrown in. She was drenched in sweat, her black hair clinging to her face because of it. A pile of twenty chunks of silver ore, and a smattering of gemstones lay by the entrance to her tunnel. She was leant against the wall, biting down on her tongue in an attempt to get some saliva flowing in her mouth.

She was startled out of her position when a bell rang out, echoing throughout the mine. She looked around, confused. Soon later, Grisvar walked by her tunnel carrying a few chunks of silver ore. "Come on," He said, "It's time to get some rest. Bring your ore to the main chamber, with the rest of it."

Raven nodded, putting her pickaxe down and scooping up three chunks of ore; the largest amount she could carry at once. Following Grisvar back to the main entrance, she finally saw how many prisoners there really were. She counted seven in total in the chamber, including Grisvar. Making it eight overall including her. Oh, and of course Madanach, wherever he was. They were all making their way to the far end of the chamber to dump their ore. Raven followed suit, making multiple journeys back and forth until all her ore was on the pile. She was proud to see that she had contributed more to the pile of ore than some of the Forsworn prisoners.

After they had all gotten their ore into the chamber, conversations started out amongst the group. Raven tried her best to look inconspicuous, but as the only girl amongst the male prisoners it was hard to stay unnoticed for long. Already one of them was sidling up to her. He was a sleazy young man, short greasy hair and an arrogant look in his eye. She was reminded of Mikael, the bard in the Bannered Mare. The look on their faces when they saw someone they were interested in was jarringly similar.

"Hail, new blood." He greeted her with a grin, showing of his crooked and blackened teeth. Raven tried not to visibly recoil, not wanting to make enemies. "I'm Helryn, it's been far too long since I've seen someone as beautiful as you. If there's anything at all you need, do not hesitate to ask me." He winked at her.

"No thanks," Raven replied as nonchalantly as she could, "that will not be necessary. I'll be fine by myself." She brushed him off. A mistake, as Helryn got irritated at his immediate dismissal.

"Are you sure?" He tried again, "young woman like yourself, surely you'd want some protection in this mine, right? Who knows what could happen to that pretty face of yours if you upset the wrong people." He emphasised that last part, giving her a bit of a glare.

"Old Gods' mercy, Helryn, leave her alone." Uraccen called out. Raven looked around, noticing how all the other prisoners were silently watching them talk.

"You don't tell me what to do, lowlife." Helryn growled at him, before turning his attention back to Raven, "so, what do you say, sweetheart?"

Raven recognised his type of man from when she was on the streets. Spending several years people-watching and begging gave her quite the extensive knowledge on how people act. She figured she would have to show a little muscle to get him to back off. "As I said before, no thank you," she repeated, "I do not need, nor want, your 'protection'. I doubt you'd be worth anything in a fight anyway, with those scrawny muscles. How about instead you walk away, and I don't drive my pickaxe through your skull." She threatened. The Forsworn around them laughed at that comment, and Helryn went red with humiliation.

"Big mistake, new blood." He simply warned, anger in his tone, "you'll regret this." He walked away, back down into the tunnel. A few seconds later the sound of a pickaxe being hurled across a chamber echoed throughout the mine. The chamber was quiet for a second, before laughter erupted amongst the group. Grisvar approached her, chuckling.

"Sorry about him," he apologised, "he's the worst of the lot of them, young and stupid."

"Should I be concerned about what he said?" Raven enquired.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Grisvar replied, "from what I've seen Helryn has a big mouth, but doesn't really do much. He gets pushed around a lot by the others, probably thought he could get some power over you. But you handled yourself just fine. Scared him off and didn't use violence. That'll win you a few points with the others, get you some respect."

"I don't care for anyone's respect." She responded, "I'm here to mine ore. Maybe if I mine enough I'll be able to get out of here. Anyway, will food be coming? I'm absolutely starving."

"Afraid not. Guards only bring food once a week. My guess, it keeps us all too weary and irritated with each other because of the hunger to rebel against them. The guards will bring us more water tomorrow, though." Grisvar explained, "its like they can't decide whether to keep us exhausted so we don't rebel, or to keep us fit and healthy so we produce more ore."

"Figures." Raven sighed, "where do we sleep?"

"Here. The fire will stay lit all night, and if you're thinking about sleeping in one of the other chambers, don't. It's far too cold. Wait, I see that look in your face," Grisvar chuckled as Raven blushed slightly, "embarrassed to be sleeping so close to so many men?"

"Of course not," Raven jokingly snapped at him, "I'll be fine. So we just pick a spot on the floor and lie down. Sounds awful."

"Well you better get used to it quickly, it's going to be the only rest you get for the rest of your life. I'd recommend just sleeping for as long as you can. You're going to feel awful tomorrow, and you don't want to add tiredness on top of that." He advised her.

"You're right," Raven nodded. She looked around the chamber as she sat down. The Forsworn were sat around the fire, talking quietly amongst themselves. Borkul was sat down a little away from them all, back resting against the gated door to where Madanach was. Helryn was still in a separate chamber, and Grisvar had moved a little away. She noticed how some of the Forsworn had removed their shirt-rags and were using them bundled up as something to rest their head on as they lay back. She considered it an option, but didn't feel comfortable with exposing herself in that way to them.

Raven lay down on the cold dirt floor, shut her eyes, and attempted to get to sleep. Despite the uncomfortable floor, and the quiet noise of the Forsworn murmuring to each other, she soon found herself drifting into a deep sleep.

She dreamt she was back in the Imperial City. Back under the same awning that had been in so many of her nightmares. She saw the Dunmer's deep red eyes first, they were hungry and wild. His knife was incredibly sharp, and she swore she saw dried blood on the blade. And again, he was on her, knife to her throat and shoving her down onto the floor. She hit her head hard onto the houses' doorstep, vision going blurry. But she could still feel as he clamped one of his hands over his mouth and used the other to tear away her-

Raven woke up to something even worse. The fire was dim, but she didn't need her sight to know the feeling of having someone's hand covering her mouth, silencing any noise she could make. She began to struggle, but soon had a hissing reply from Helryn. "Stay still, or I'll cut you good," he growled, revealing a shiv that he used to slice easily through her rags. She tried to scream, but this attempt was ultimately futile. His trousers were down, and Raven could feel his member rubbing against her leg. He started to reposition himself, and Raven used the time whilst he was slightly off-balance whilst she could. She ignored the aching of her muscles and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach. He doubled over, and mistakenly took his hand off from around her mouth.

"**FUS RO DAH!" **She roared, not caring about hiding her thu'um from the Forsworn. Helryn rocketed backwards, and Raven ignored the Forsworn and Grisvar who were startled awake by her shout, as she grabbed a nearby pickaxe and sprinted to where he had landed, groaning in pain, and swung the pickaxe as hard as she could directly into his skull, embedding it there. Helryn died instantly, and Raven stood over his body breathing heavily, before dropping the pickaxe and starting to break down into tears.

Grisvar awkwardly approached her. "He deserved it." He tried to console her. "He had that coming for a long time." Raven looked up at him, eyes red and brimming with tears. He was half naked, offering her his ragged shirt in his hand. "Trade?" He smiled weakly. Raven weakly nodded, quickly slipping off her own sliced shirt, taking Grisvar's, and putting it on. She turned around to face the Forsworn, who she was surprised to see were not even looking at her, but rather at the man behind the gate where Borkul stood on guard.

"Well well well," the King in Rags said, "I would very much like to have a chat with you, new blood."


	3. Chapter 3: The King and the Dragon

**A/N **

**Holy moly I updated. Yeah, sorry about the huge delay; I got really bogged down with my university application but now that's all sent off and I'm getting offers back. Enjoy the chapter, and please leave me a review so I can learn how to improve my style to make this better for you guys.**

Madanach was slightly taller than her. He had light coloured skin, but this had been long since covered by dirt and grime since his imprisonment, making him appear darker than he was. His hair had prematurely greyed, but being locked up for twenty plus years would do that to you. Still, even from her distance, Raven could see the young scheming glint in his eyes when he looked at her, the last indication of youth on the man. "Last time I heard a shout like that it was from the voice of Ulfric Stormcloak on the day the Nord dogs forced us out of our rightful home." He declared to her through the gate, as she looked at him from over Helryn's corpse. "Who are you to hold such a power?" He asked.

Raven took one last glance at Helryn's body, taking his shiv which was lying close by, before walking closer to Madanach. "I'm Dragonborn." She managed to reply to him, after sucking in a breath and trying to hold back a sob. "You're Madanach?" Now he was closer she could get a better look at him. He had noticeable bags under his hazel eyes. He stood upright, not even a hint of a slouch, and was slightly taller than Raven.

"I am." He confirmed, "you and I have some things to discuss. Please, come with me." He smiled at her in a friendly manner, but Raven was on edge. She couldn't read the King in Rags. Having spent so long on the streets she was so sure of her ability to judge peoples' character on looks alone- but he was an enigma. He held the anger of a slave, but alongside the nobility of a king, the quick eyes of a hunter, and also the wizened look she attributed to those who had spent time studying magic. "Borkul, give our friend here a key." He ordered. The huge Orc nodded, walking up to Raven and handing her a key.

"Try anything around the King and you'll regret it." He warned as he handed it over. Raven merely nodded and unlocked the gate to Madanach. She had no plans on attacking him in the sight of anybody, if at all. She wanted answers about the Forsworn, not to make enemies with everyone in the prison. Shutting the gate behind her, she followed Madanach through a tunnel, gated doors to her left and right, into Madanach's private cell. Despite having only slept on the floor half of one night, she was already jealous of Madanach's four-post bed and furs, carpet, desk, and various fruits and wines. He was living the life of luxury whilst everyone else was lucky to have their shirts by which to use as pillows if they so desired. A room truly fit for the King in Rags.

"I'm sorry about Helryn." He apologised right away, "you've done me, us all, a favour by killing him. One less mouth to feed, and a loud and arrogant one at that. May I ask why you shoved a pickaxe through his skull, though?" Raven was inwardly surprised at how casual he was being. She had expected him to be more regal, at the least. But he talked no different to the common man she'd meet in any City. But the mention of Helryn made her choke back a sob that she thought she had suppressed.

"He- he forced himself upon me." She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, tears started to well up in them again.

"I'm so sorry," he sounded genuinely empathetic. Thonar had called him an animal, but he was displaying far more emotion than he had. "Old Gods give you more peace in the future." Raven hiccuped and wiped her eyes on her forearm. "Not just about Helryn, but about you being in here. The Nords have turned you into an animal, like the rest of us. You're a slave, the boot of the Nord pressing down on your throat. If you understood that, maybe I could help you."

Raven look at the man, who stared right back into her eyes, taking a moment to collect herself from the chaos of a few minutes earlier. She still couldn't read his intentions. Did he really want to help her, or was she a means to an end to him? She couldn't tell, and it was irritating her to no end. "I have questions," she told him, "I want to know about Thonar? Why do his bidding?"

"I had Markarth. My men and I drove the Nords out. We had won, or so we thought. Retribution was swift. I was captured, quickly tried, and sentenced to death. But my execution never came. Thonar stopped it. He wanted the Forsworn at his call, that I would point their rage at his enemies and spare his allies. And I have. Humiliating at first, but I knew he would let his guard down eventually. That he would come to trust I was under control. And now I can strike out at him and break him, and this City will be ours again with time." Madanach answered. "Does that answer satisfy you?"

Raven nodded. "And the Forsworn? Who are you really?"

Madanach's eyes glowed with passion. "The Reach is our land." He declared, "we were here first. Then the Nords came and put chains on us. Forbid us from worshipping our gods. Some of us refused to bow. We knew the old ways would lead us back to having a kingdom of our own. That is who we are. The Forsworn. Criminals in our own lands. And we will cut a bloody hole into the Reach until we are free!" Madanach angrily stated. Raven agreed with Grisvar's earlier statement. He definitely did believe in his cause, not just in it for power, unlike her suspicions about the leader of the Stormcloaks. This was a man who genuinely believed what he was doing was right, and was hell-bent on achieving his goals.

"But you attack everyone, not just the Nords." Raven pointed out, "I myself have had some Forsworn try to kill me on my way through the Reach to get to Markarth, despite sticking to the road. And I've heard the stories; you're daedra-worshippers. You revere Hagravens. And yet you expect the Nords of the Reach to accept your people?" She asked, thinking that she had some valid criticisms.

"Are we not allowed our own religion?" He asked her incredulously, "what you call daedra are not the entirety of the Old Gods. We worship some aedra, and some daedra. Tell me, do you shun the Dark Elves for worshipping Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah? They are daedra too." He retorted, "Hagravens are merely a link between us and the Old Gods. Our spiritual leaders. Like your priests." Madanach explained.

"And what about the attacks on travellers?"

Madanach sighed. "Without my leadership and influence, it is true that some of our people have resorted to more aggressive tactics. Back when I was King we only targeted the rich Nord landowners, tried to drive down their profits so they would sell their land away and leave. Maybe my people have forgotten my ways, but that just gives us all the more reason to help each other." He argued. "What do you say?"

Raven thought hard about it. Were the Forsworn misunderstood? Madanach certainly would have her believe so. Yes, their practices were foreign and would seem barbaric to outsiders, but does that make them deserve death? And daedra worship wasn't so uncommon, even two of her friends and fellow Companions, Aela and Skjorr, were devout followers of Hircine.

But the Forsworn were also killers, something she couldn't deny. Even if Madanach could control them, it doesn't change that fact. And she wasn't sure on the argument that just because a race was in a land first that they had a claim over it. Using the same logic, wouldn't it then make sense for the Falmer to have rule of Skyrim? She didn't need Madanach's help to escape. Cidhna Mine may appear inescapable, but Raven doubted that the mine had ever held a Dragonborn before.

"Well?" Madanach asked her, expectantly.

"I do not need, nor want, your help, Madanach." She replied adamantly.

He let out a sigh. "So many say that, at first, until they realize the truth." He said, rubbing his temples. "If you change your mind, speak to Braig. Tell him I sent you. I want you to know how widespread the injustice of Markarth is. Maybe you'll change your mind then, and come to see that we are in the right."

Raven didn't reply, instead turning around to walk out of Madanach's cell, having nothing more to say to him. The King in Rags watched her go, confident that she'd be back soon enough. She yawned as she left, forgetting how tired she was. Exiting back through the gate and into the main chamber, she curled up by the fire and attempted to get back to sleep.

The very next day she began her first escape plan. She had claimed Helryn's shiv from his body, and, as she mined, frequently sharpened its blade more and more in the rock walls of the cave. Grisvar occasionally watched her with curiosity in his eyes as she carried out this ritual, but said nothing. All of the Forsworn seemed to be ignoring her as well. As the day progressed, and she became more and more tired, an idea suddenly came to her.

"Su grah dun." She whispered the words of power of the elemental fury shout. Instantly the aching in her muscles ceased and she began swinging her pickaxe much quicker, dislodging more and more rock. Whilst the brief reprieve from putting effort into her mining did feel good, she soon found the effects wearing off and the aches and pains that she had been developing.

Still, the day progressed and she kept on digging. She had a modest pile of silver at the entrance to her tunnel by the end of the day. But that wasn't what was important to her. What was, was the shiv that she had been slowly whittling down over the course of the day. By now, it was more akin to a lockpick than a shiv, and that was all she needed. She had to admit, it was not the best plan she had ever had, but it could work. Wait until nighttime, pick the lock of the gates keeping her trapped in the mine, use her thu'um to get past the guards on the outside, reclaim her belongings, then fight her way out of the City and back into Whiterun Hold, where she would be safe.

Yes, the Forsworn and Grisvar would probably be harshly treated for her escape, and the corruption in Markarth would remain, but she would be free. Free, except for when she would have to go into the Reach.

She began to carry the ore she had mined through to the main chamber, dumping it all into a growing pile that was growing in the back of the chamber. Raven sniffed, noticing a rotten smell in the air. It didn't take her long to figure out the source: Helryn's body had been thrown on the fire and the smell of burning flesh was filling the mine. She gagged, briskly walking back down to her tunnel in hopes that the smell hadn't reached her area yet, but to no luck. She spent five minutes bringing her ore back and forth, then finally settling down in the main chamber. Forsworn, minus Madanach, all sat in a circle around the fire. They held hands, heads to the sky with their eyes closed. She watched them, her curiosity piqued.

Grisvar soon joined her, sighing as he sat down.

"What are they doing?" Raven murmured, asking him, but not wanting to loudly interrupt their ritual to avoid angering them.

"Praying." Grisvar replied, "they do this whenever one of them is killed down here. Burn the body, and pray. Something to do with making his souls ready to be received fully by the Old Gods. To me, it just sounds like superstitious nonsense, but it makes them happier when they get to." He explained. Raven was initially slightly confused about where he had his knowledge about the Forsworn from, until she remembered that he had been amongst the Forsworn a lot longer than her.

"How many have you seen them do this for?" She asked him. He looked up in thought.

"Oh," he mused, "well, maybe three or four." He told her, "some of the native lifers that get thrown in here can't handle it despite all their talk of family. They crack, and off themselves." Raven said nothing, and they both sat there in silence watching the Forsworn perform their ritual. After five minutes or so they were done, and all sat on the opposite end of the chamber to her and Grisvar, quietly talking amongst themselves. "What did Madanach want?" He asked her.

"To convert me to their cause," Raven sighed, "that was the gist of it. He tried to wrap it up in speeches appealing to my morality, but that was the message behind it all."

"Figures. Judging by the fact that you're not with them, I take it you refused?"

"Yeah. Joining up with a group of murderers, no matter their cause, is not something I want any part in." Raven said. "Just because I've been framed for murder, doesn't mean I have to live up to that sentence. I'm not a killer of innocents."

"Nor I." Grisvar hummed in agreement, "sure, I'm a thief, but I don't kill. Good to have someone here who isn't devoted to their cause, I was getting so sick and fed up of them all going on about how they will reclaim the Reach and paint its walls red with Nord blood. I was surprised that they didn't kill me at first for being a Nord, but I served some use to Madanach so they left me alone." Grisvar slipped off his sliced open rag shirt that had been Raven's, balled it up, and lay back, placing it under his head.

"What did you do for him?" Raven yawned, also leaning back. She made sure to keep her lockpick-shiv out of sight as she did so. Tonight, she would make her escape.

"I've been in and out of here a lot. Every time I got thrown back in here after a botched job I would give Madanach the rundown on everything that has changed out there. But now I'm in for life, so I'm not useful to him anymore." Grisvar admitted.

Raven didn't reply, but shut her eyes and tried to ignore the rotten stench of burning flesh left over from the Forsworn's ritual. She began to breathe slower and deeper, becoming more and more tired, and she soon found herself drifting into sleep.

In the dead of the night her eyes snapped open as she sharply awoke. She shot up to a sitting up position, careful not to awaken anyone around her. The fire in the centre of the chamber had dimmed, but that light it provided allowed Raven just enough visibility to see the obstacles around her. Grisvar asleep close by. The Forsworn asleep on the other side of the room. A few pickaxes on the cave floor. Luckily nobody in the chamber was awake; even Borkul who usually was constantly guarding Madanach's chambers, was asleep by the gate to them.

Raven slowly got into a sneaking position. She was no thief, like Grisvar, but she knew a thing or two about keeping quiet. She brought out the makeshift lockpick as she crept towards the gated door out of the mine. Out into freedom. She used the dim orange light from the fire to ensure that she avoided all the obstacles between her and the door. The only thing she now had to worry about was the creaking of the wooden boards of the platform that led up and out of the chamber.

She began to slowly ascend the steps out. Never putting too much weight on one step to avoid making a noise. Left, right, carefully. She kept going upwards, daring not to even breath. Quiet as a cat. Once she had ascended the steps she slowly let out the breath she had held in, and slowly made her way to the door.

There was not a mercenary-guard in sight; the Markarth Guard had placed far too much faith in their 'inescapable' prison. Two locked gates were all that stood in the way of her freedom.

Raven inserted her lockpick into the lock of the gate and began to turn it to the left. No good. She adjusted its angle and tried again. Still nothing. Her palms were getting sweaty, fingers starting to make the lockpick harder to grasp. Picking locked chests in dungeons with relatively little risk was a lot more easy than this high risk job. She positioned the lockpick far to the left. And turned. The lock turned, she held her breath careful not to slip up now. Slowly and surely her lockpick became more horizontal. After an excruciating thirty more seconds the lock clicked, and the door swung open. She let out a large sigh of relief and wiped her sweaty hands on the rags she wore.

One door down, one to go. She looked around again, double checking that there were no guards around. None. Good thing mercenaries were lazier than actual City guards. Raven inserted her lockpick into the second gate, took a deep breath, and began to turn. Nothing. The lockpick rattled for a second before she quickly stopped turning, terrified that it would break. It didn't. She again wiped her palms and fingertips, then positioned the lockpick to the right. She began to turn.

Her fingers slipped, and quickly forced the lockpick upwards. "No!" Raven said quietly but distraught. Two halves of lockpick fell to the floor. She was so close at so far. One door standing in between her and freedom, but with no way of getting it open, she was stuck. Desperately, she tried to use one of the halves of lockpick to get it open, but to no avail. It was just too small and brittle.

Defeated, Raven crept away from the second gated door, and closed the first one. She couldn't lock it, but hopefully when the guards come they would think that they just forgot to lock it themselves. She slowly made her way back to where she was asleep just a few minutes ago, and lay back down. All that could be heard was the light snoring of a few of her fellow inmates. She closed her eyes, and tried to get some more sleep.

She couldn't get any. She spent all night trying to come up with other successful escape plans, but being satisfied by none of them. Everything she thought up would either result in her being cut down by the mercenaries in the mine, or by being killed in the City itself. Not to mention the consequences on her other inmates. She cursed as she lay there, determined not to be in captivity forever but also not seeing a way out. She decided to take her mind off of the direct plan to escape, instead thinking about her thu'um. What shouts could help her escape? Unrelenting Force definitely, Dismay probably. She thought about using Call Dragon to summon Odahviing to her need, but decided against it; the potential for innocent civilian casualties would be far too high. As she thought her eyelids began to close, and she finally drifted back into sleep.

Morning came sooner than Raven had hoped and expected. She was awoken by the movements of everyone else stirring, and she snapped awake herself. As soon as her head cleared from the grogginess of sleep she was hit with the anger at her failed escape attempt during the night. She groaned, picking herself up. Her stomach growled and she felt incredibly weary. She hadn't eaten all day yesterday and had barely anything the day before, whilst doing manual labour, led her to be incredibly hungry.

The Forsworn were still ignoring her. Grisvar gave her a nod and a friendly smile, but nothing more. She returned the gesture, yawning. As soon as she began to move her stomach began to ache and her muscles screamed at her to sit back down again. She let out a groan, forcing herself back into the tunnel. Even just lifting a pickaxe was painful, let alone swinging it over and over again.

But she managed. Mining away at the cave walls in search of silver. She became more and more hungry as the day went on. She bit down on her own tongue to try to satisfy the urge she had to eat, but it barely helped. She tried to ignore it as the hours passed, but it was quickly becoming impossible to mine with the pain in her stomach. The pile of silver that usually lay at the entrance to her tunnel was a lot less significant than the past two days.

The day passed slowly. Ignoring her pain was impossible. But eventually she realised that everyone else was stopping work for the day, and taking their ore back. So she followed suit. She was expecting her evening ritual to be the same as the past two days; talk to Grisvar for a few hours then go to sleep. But not today. As she dumped her ore into the large pile of silver that had accumulated over the week at the back of the mine, she saw every prisoner stand looking warily towards the gates as the guards approached with large wheelbarrows for collecting the ore.

And then when they got through the second gate, the one that Raven herself had unlocked the night prior, the silence that had lay thick in the mine was shattered by guards shouting. They entered and drew their swords, demanding they all get in line. Yelling at them to hurry. Duach took a little too long and was knocked down by one of the guards bashing the hilt of their sword into his face. Raven found herself sandwiched between Odvan and Uraccen.

"Which one of you opened the gate?" The same guard who had been the one to throw her into the mine shouted at them. They all stood, defiant and silent. Not one of them even gave off a hint that they would say anything, even to turn on each other for favour. A minute passed slowly and painfully. "Very well." The guard said, and draw his sword. Two other guards then shoved Odvan forward and forced him to his knees in front of the ringleader guard. "Every time you refuse to talk, he loses a body part." The guard explained. Raven felt disgust at the numerous tone in his voice. The guard drew his sword back, making a show of it. "I'll take an eye first." He decided.

"Take all you want," Odvan spat, "no one here will betray anyone to the likes of you, Nord dog."

The guard chuckled, "I'm not looking for a betrayer amongst you savages, barbarian." The guard's blade came plummeting down, stopping just short of hitting Odvan. Raven's heart plummeted into the pit of her stomach. This man was going to be tortured because of her!

Again, the guard drew back his sword. He tensed his muscles, building up tension. Odvan has a brave face on, but Raven could see him shaking slightly. She couldn't just stand by while an innocent man was being punished.

"Stop!" She cried out, just before the guard swung down. "It was me! I picked the lock to the gate! Leave him alone!" She stepped forward, next to Odvan.

"Thank you," Raven could hear the smirk in his voice. The guard gestured with his hand and Odvan was pushed back into the line of prisoners. Then the guard turned to face her. "Seems you're not fitting in to your new life, Dragonborn. Trying to leave so soon?"

"When I get out of here," Raven simply replied, "and I will one way or another. I don't care for my principles. I am going to kill you. Slowly. And painfully." She threatened him, glaring him down. The corrupt guard torturing prisoners and taking money from the biggest crook in Markarth. Yeah, he was no innocent. Raven could feel her vengeful dovah nature clawing at her, begging her to assert her dominance and break out of the mine with a breath of fire, but she squashed it. Causing so many unnecessary deaths would only bring more bad word to her name.

The guard just laughed and, catching Raven off guard, swung his sword at her fast and hard. He cut right across her face and she screamed in pain. Her vision flashed white and she fell backwards. She let out an agonised wail, clutching at her face, and soon felt the embrace of darkness take her over. And everything went black


	4. Chapter 4: Weakness

**A/N **

**Wow, I updated. **

**Last few months have been crazy. Revising for my A Levels for uni, only for corona to come along and have the exams cancelled. Now I'm stuck at home with nothing to do except play Skyrim and write this.**

**So can't complain, really!**

**Expect updates more frequently now I have a lot more time on my hands!**

**Shoutout to Destructorbolt for the fav! And to Alastair279 and Nala Moon for the follows!**

The first thing she felt was the warmth of a restoration spell engulfing her body. Her entire body throbbed in response, but Raven could feel the magic working its way into her body and knitting together torn tissue, closing open cuts, fading scars. She felt the aches of her muscles subside and the cuts and bruises that she had gathered over the past few days began to disappear. Attempting to open her eyes resulted in her finding that her eyelids were seemingly stuck together. Inwardly panicking, she instinctively flexed her fingers, managing to stretch them out.

"She's awake." Raven heard someone's muffled voice, but she couldn't place it. Again, she tried to open her eyes but to no avail, settling for letting out a slight groaning sound. A small whimper escaped her lips. Her throat felt dry, it hurt even just to let that sound out.

"She needs water." Someone else said, concern evident in the tone of their voice.

"We don't have much to spare, we're already spending time here tending to her when we should be mining." She could make out someone's uncaring voice, really struggling to distinguish between who was speaking. It could've been any one of her fellow inmates.

"Dishonourable oaf! Just go get some water. Then go mine, if you're that bothered." One berated the other. Raven heard one of them sigh, then his footsteps as he left to get water. She kept trying to work her eyes open. Her left eyelids especially felt almost stuck together, but she nearly had her right eye open.

"Here's your water. When you're done with her, you better come back to mine as well. We can't forgo food another week." Raven squirmed, feeling vulnerable. She hadn't felt this helpless since Helgen, when her head rested upon the chopping block. It was a feeling she hoped that she'd finally escaped from. She was quickly jarred out of her thoughts when she felt ice cold water splash down onto her face. She gasped, shocked by how cold it was.

"Keep still," the person said. The cold of the water being rubbed over her face contrasted with the warmth of the healing spell. She felt a sting, the pain dulled slightly, when the water went over half her face. Raven winced, but couldn't deny how she was feeling better for it. She could finally get her eyes open as her eyelids were washed clean. Her vision was foggy and blurred. Instinctively raising her hand to rub her eyes to clear them, as soon as she touched her left eye pain shot through her skull. Raven let out a yelp of frustration and pain.

"Careful," the man who was healing her said, "the guard cut you pretty bad. Can you," he hesitated, "see alright?" Perplexion ran through her. Then it all came back. Her escape attempt. The line up. Giving herself up for Odvan. The guard's sword- She tried to blink. Her right eye closed and opened, but she felt another stab of pain trying to move her left eyelids.

"Blurry. Hard to- to focus." She groaned, "left eye- killing me." She slowly turned her head. She could just make out that she was in Madanach's chamber. Lying on his bed. Kneeling beside her, presumably who had been casting the healing spell, was Uraccen. "What happened?"

"After the guard sliced your eye out, they all started beating you. This went on for about ten minutes, we were forced to watch. They left, taking back our food with them." Uraccen explained to her as he kept up his healing spell. Having been at it a long time, sweat dripping from his forehead as he concentrated on healing the internal damage done to Raven by the guards. Her vision would never be the same. "Madanach had you moved in here, had me take care of you. I'm the one most studied in Restoration here, I've been here healing you since then."

"My eye's- gone?!" Raven asked, horrified.

"Well, not gone." Uraccen explained, "it's still in the socket. But it's badly damaged, I doubt your vision's ever going to be perfect again," Raven could make out him giving her a sympathetic look. "You're lucky to be alive. Usually the trauma and beatings kill escapees. Attempted escapees, that is." He clarified.

Raven didn't respond. Her mouth was incredibly dry, it hurt even to get a few words out. And her hunger pangs had never been worse. "Water?" She rasped out.

"Open your mouth, best for you to get some rest. I'll tip some in, alright?" Uraccen asked for confirmation from her, concerned. Raven simply nodded for a reply, tilting her head back to the best of her ability without it hurting, and opened her mouth. She could just make out Uraccen lifting a wooden bowl of water and bringing it over. He took it to her mouth and slowly began pouring it in. The water tasted somewhat stagnant, and felt warm, but Raven was eternally grateful as she gulped it down. Wettenting her dried tongue and throat, causing the irritance in her mouth to cease.

Uraccen suddenly stopped pouring, causing her to grunt in protest. "Sorry," he apologised, "we don't have much; that's all you can have for now." He reached down, putting the back of his hand on her forehead. "Best thing for you is to get some sleep. Rest will probably take care of some of those aches." He lifted his hand off. "When you feel better, come out to start mining again. The others may be happy that you didn't let Odvan take the hit for your escape attempt for now, but that's going to go away soon now we're having to mine more to make up for you." He explained to her as he stood up to leave. "If you start feeling major pain, yell. I'll be around to try some healing magic on you." Raven felt slightly comforted as Uraccen gave her a look bearing some semblance to a smile.

"Thank you." Raven started coughing, despite the water it was still painful to speak. She lay back down on Madanach's bed, enjoying the comfort of the soft animal hides that made up his sheets. Her body weak and exhausted, it did not take long for her to slip down into a deep sleep.

,.,.,

"How is she doing? is she awake?" Grisvar was by Uraccen's side almost immediately after he had left Madanach's quarters. The Reachman sighed, himself exhausted from staying up casting healing for so long.

"She's fine, Nord." He replied with tired irritance, "she's asleep, but she woke up for a few minutes. Shook up about her eye, though. Best to leave her alone for the time being." Uraccen let out a loud yawn. "How's the mining been?"

"We've gotten lucky, hit a huge vein of silver." Grisvar announced, "hopefully enough to cover for Raven and your contribution. Madanach and Borkul have been mining in your two places. I swear that Orc can mine twice as quick as any of us and yet he gets to stand around all day by the gate."

"Take it up with him, if you're that bothered," Uraccen chuckled, "I'm sure you'll get an understanding response. Now, excuse me, but I'm going to get some rest myself." Uraccen pushed past Grisvar, who gave a concerned stare through the gate to Madanach's quarters. He sat down by the fire, noticing the drops of blood dried onto the floor of the cave.

Closing his eyes, he remembered back when they were free. Living in Markarth, raising Ualie and teaching her the old magicks. Her learning from Bothela the art of alchemy. One day she would be a candidate to ascend to the matriarchy, to the Hagravens. He couldn't have been more proud of her. Uraccen clung to those memories, as his daughter's face faded slowly from his mind. What did she look like again? Would she even remember him? Or would the years of separation give rise to forgetfulness?

"I don't mean to keep you awake, but how is our resident dragon doing?" Uraccen was jolted out of his thoughts at the approach of Madanach, Borkul close behind. He pushed himself to his feet to bow in the presence of his King. "Oh don't do that, old friend." Madanach sighed, "there's no need."

"Sorry," Uraccen apologised, "she's recovering. I'd expect her to be up and about in a day or so. Although, her eye's beyond me." He explained, "everything else I've managed to heal but her eye is too badly damaged. I don't even know if it's possible to use conventional healing spells to repair that much damage." Uraccen suppressed a yawn, severely worn out. "If I may ask, why are you spending so much time on her? Didn't she reject the offer to join us?"

"She's incredibly powerful." Madanach responded, "haven't you sensed it in her? Did you not hear her shout? If she joined us, that power would be directed against the Nords. It would secure us Markarth, and even that Nord dog Ulfric Stormcloak would never be able to rout us! Her support could be pivotal to winning back the Reach!" He declared. "As for her eye, one of the matriarchs could be able to heal it. Xirce, maybe. Whispers said she managed to flee before the Nords overthrew us."

"How do you plan to get her on our side, anyway? She seemed pretty sure of her rejection of your offer." Uraccen pointed out. "You didn't overlook that, did you?"

"All in good time, my friend," Madanach gave Uraccen a sly look, one that let Uraccen realise that there was more to it than he was letting on, "she will come to truly understand the injustice of the Nords, increasing her desire to escape. And she knows that she can't do it alone. In time, she will inevitably join us." Uraccen didn't reply. Madanach made a fair point. If Raven couldn't escape, and wanted to, she would eventually have to realise that the only way out would be through Madanach. Time was everything, and they had plenty of it. "In the meantime you should get some rest as well. Old Gods keep you."

"Old Gods keep you, my King."

,.,.,

Raven stirred, head pounding but her body less achy than the previous day. She opened her eye, drearily looking around. Everything was still slightly blurred. It was hard to focus on any one thing, especially in the corner of her eyesight. She remembered where she was; Madanach's quarters. Cidhna Mine. Not even a week of imprisonment and she was already forgetting just how the outside world felt. The cold wind, the rain, the sun, the most basic of things felt like distant memories. Now all she had was stagnant, dusty air and the warmth of a fire in the main chamber.

She could just make out a cup full of water on the table, with a bowl of fruit next to it. Her stomach growled loudly, almost painfully. She tried to bring her legs round, finding them more stiff than usual. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her arms throbbed, as if begging her to stop, but she ignored them, swinging her legs around and placed them on the floor by the bed.

Slowly shifting more and more weight onto her legs, she took a breath as she tried to stand. Almost immediately, she fell back down into the bed. Her legs weren't used to it having been in bed the past two days. "Okay." She whispered to herself, determined. "Attempt two." She was slower this time, ever so slightly placing more and more weight onto her legs. She began to slowly push herself off of her bed and onto her feet. Her legs wobbled and ached in protest, but she was having none of it. Slowly but surely, she managed to get onto her feet, unstable yet up.

The bowl of the fruit on the table was her goal. She took one step forward, her leg shaking. Everything looked off. Blurry, objects looked closer than they were. Her entire depth perception was off. Missing an eye would definitely take getting used to. She reached out, grabbing hold of the table to steady herself, and slowly made her way to it.

First she took the bowl of water, being very careful not to spill it as she brought it up to her mouth and took gulps out of it. The water tasted warm and rusty, but it felt like the sweetest of nectars going down her throat. She stopped short of having it all, worried that there would be none left for later. She grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, and raised it to her mouth, taking a large bite out of it. She let out a slight moan of satisfaction as its sweet juice filled her mouth with flavour. Quickly, she swallowed it down and took another bite.

"Careful; eat too much too quickly in your state and you could just make yourself ill." Turning around, Raven was slightly stunned to see Madanach casually leaning against the wall of the cave looking at her. "Take what you want, you'll need to get your strength back." He gave her an understanding smile. Raven merely nodded, humming in thanks as she ate her apple. He walked further into the room. "Thank you for owning up to your escape attempt." Madanach said, taking a bottle of wine from the table and opening it. "A lot of people just let someone else get the punishment and don't own up. But, I told you before, there's no escaping alone. Even for a woman with your power, you wouldn't make it out of the Hold."

"You underestimate me." Raven tried to sound tough, but her wobbling legs and grasping on the table for support really made the effect fall flat.

"Maybe you could at your best, but in this state? I think we both know I'm right." He responded. "You're not the only one who wants to escape, you know. If you would just work with us, we could all be free from this wretched mine!" Madanach spoke with passion, his anger emphasising his point. "My people are dying in the hills, Dragonborn. And without me to guide them directly, they'll be out of control and will eventually be massacred. You think you've seen all the corruption in Markarth? You've only scratched the surface of the villainy of the Nords. Did you ever talk to Braig like I asked of you?"

Raven shook her head, signalling that she hadn't. "No," she admitted, "no I didn't."

Madanach sighed, moving closer into the room. "Please, talk to him. You told me you wanted to understand why we do what we do? Well, his story is a perfect example of why. Our people have been treated like scum for far too long. The atrocities that happened during The Scatter, what the Nords did to us, it would be shameful if we were to not retaliate."

"The Scatter?" She asked, looking at Madanach curiously.

"The Scatter; the day we were ousted from Markarth. Like I told you before, Ulfric Stormcloak led an army to destroy our new kingdom. We had little warning, some of the matriarchs and a few of the Briarhearts managed to lead a few out of the City, but many more were trapped. We were shouted from the walls, anyone, Nord or Native, anyone who even once defended our rule or didn't join Ulfric's assault was killed. More atrocities happened that day than the entirety of my rule!" Madanach slammed his hand down onto the table in anger, "now people are imprisoned just for mentioning the Old Gods or speaking their names. The hypocrisy of the Nords is unparalleled."

"I have to agree with you," Raven conceded the point. "Everyone deserves the freedom to worship whichever god they believe in." She took another bite of her apple, nearly having finished it. "Talos, Old Gods, Aedra, Daedra, it should be none of anyone's concern who is worshipping who."

"Thank you," Madanach gave her a look of genuine respect, calming himself down, "there's not many who share that same sentiment, we are a rarity in Tamriel." He sat down on the bed. "Tell me, Dragonborn," He said inquisitively, "What is Skyrim like above ground? Not just Markarth, but the whole country?"

"It's- it's in a time of strife, the Civil War is still ongoing with no clear winner. Most of the dragons are dead again, but some are still roaming free and causing chaos. With me locked up, they may start becoming more active; I'm the only one who can kill them permanently." Raven sighed, running a hand through her greasy unwashed hair. "But I killed the World Eater, so at least the world isn't ending any time soon. I've had so many petition me to take a side in the war, but I'm not a Nord. I'm not from Skyrim. It's not my conflict."

"Is Markarth still under Imperial control?"

"Yes, I believe so. They were trying to get the deed to Cidhna Mine." She spoke what she knew.

"I know, it always feels awful turning people against our cause by ordering attacks in the market. But I had no choice. Thonar would have all of us killed otherwise. It's a shame poor Eltrys was killed as well, I heard he had a child on the way. Another injustice forced upon my people by the Nords."

"You're right." Raven admitted. He was. If she was going to be consistent with her own moral compass, the Nords were vastly in the wrong. Killing innocents, leaving a child to grow up without its father? The corruption second to only Riften? This city was morally bankrupt. "And something does need to change. But killing in return? That doesn't solve the problem. What does, is being better."

"You think I don't know that? We were better! Nobody was unjustly killed when I ruled!" Madanach was on the verge of yelling. He was visibly angry, bristling at the corruption, the evil, of the Nords of Markarth. He defended himself passionately. "I was a fair king! But the Nords, they didn't care! All they saw were backwards savages."

"I'm sorry for what happened to your people." Raven tried to calm him down, "and, for what it's worth, I'll talk to Braig." She finally accepted his bargain. "It's not right, what the Nords did to your people. But the senseless killing needs to stop on your end too. Otherwise your goal will never be respected." She advised him, giving her genuine thoughts. From her time in Markarth, she was sympathising more and more with the Forsworn.

"I can only stop that once I'm out of here and able to properly lead my people." Madanach replied, looking her in the eyes with serious intent, "think on that. The longer I'm here, the more people will unnecessarily get hurt. Neither of us want that."

Raven didn't respond. She finished her apple, swallowing down, even the core. She couldn't afford to waste food. "I would rather nobody got hurt." She admitted, looking away. It was a complex moral situation, she knew that it wasn't an acceptable answer to just shrug it off and give an idealistic diversion of a reply. "How do you know your people will listen to you? You've been locked up here a long time." She asked.

"They will." He passionately asserted, "I am still their King, they will listen. Oh, and don't worry about your name; once I break out everyone in the Reach will pin all of the murders onto my head. You'll be clean of any crime."

Raven perked up at this. Every escape plan she had created in her head would result in her being a wanted criminal in the Reach; a problem when her allies the Blades had their headquarters there. But to be able to clear her name, that was an opportunity she couldn't pass up. "I'm going to need a few days, if nothing else." She admitted, groaning slightly as she made her way to move back to the bed, "I feel bloody awful."

"I understand." Madanach said sympathetically, shuffling up on the bed to give her room to sit down. "Uraccen is always going to be okay with using healing spells on you, should you need it. And don't worry about mining; Borkul and I are taking it up whilst you two are out of action."

"Thanks," Raven mumbled, only half listening, the pain on her face had flared up again and she was doing her best not to show any kinds of weakness, she already felt far too vulnerable. Her, the slayer of Alduin, being treated like a sickly child. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

"Get some sleep, Raven," the King in Rags commanded her, standing up from the bed and turning to leave. As he reached the exit of the room, he turned back to look at her. "One last thing; I'll make sure you're not disturbed until tomorrow. If you're going to help us get out of here, you'll need rest to gather your strength." He finished with that last piece of advice, and Raven heard the clang of the metal gate closing as Madanach left.

Raven wasn't sure how to feel about that conversation. The King in Rags, he definitely deserved that title. His passion for his cause, his devotion, it all felt so genuine. She knew it was coming from his heart, not just for personal ambitions of power, but to help his people. He wasn't good, not in any objective way. But was anyone? Even she had her flaws: indecisiveness, lacking assertiveness, and contrasting that of the soul of a dragon in her almost begging her to use her powers to dominate and conquer. But Madanach, unlike Thonar and the corrupt guards of the city, was more than willing to acknowledge his flaws and try to overcome them.

If he could control the Forsworn, stop the attacks on innocents and focus it onto the corrupt and guilty, then surely it'd be worth releasing him, she thought. The alternative, murdering him in cold blood? No. No, she would not violate her morals like that. Thonar was the mastermind behind all the deaths, he was the one deserving of punishment. Madanach was merely the unwilling tool of that corrupt and vile man. And she would not stay in that wretched mine for crimes she didn't commit. Escaping would clear her name, she was reassured. And escaping would not mean joining with the Forsworn, just working as allies for a small period of time

So she decided, as she lay there in bed with her mind in turmoil running over all of her options. Skyrim's inescapable prison was going to have a jailbreak.


End file.
